Of Flames and Desires
by Arkenshield
Summary: They arrived at Lake-town. The secret door was opened, and Bilbo ventured into the lair of Smaug the Terrible. However, the hobbit ended up discovering something he had not quite anticipated. (Human Smaug X Bilbo)
1. A Revelation

**Author's note: M rated for future chapters**

* * *

Bilbo carefully stepped down a broken staircase, some stone steps crumbled away beneath his feet and the hobbit let out gasps of fright. With a torch burning bright in his hand, and a satchel slung over one shoulder, the hobbit squinted his eyes as he peered into the darkness of the grand hall.

It was not utter darkness, however, as he could make out a warm gleam of light spilling from what he supposed was a connecting room further down into the hall.

Finally, Bilbo managed to arrive safely at the bottom of the staircase. The hobbit let out a sullen sigh, before adjusting his satchel and continuing to step forward stiffly towards the source of light. It was not courage that had pushed him this far, it was the blunt numbness etched deep in his heart.

He knew he could not grant what The King in Exile desired of him, and for all the tenderness Thorin had been bestowing upon him lately, he felt naught but guilt. He could not return his feelings.

More light was spilling from the room now as Bilbo walked closer. The double doors were tall, wiith intricate runes carved into the stone. Out of sheer madness, the hobbit slipped inside without a second thought.

He only had a second to take in all that was in the room, before having to duck behind a pillar to escape being burnt alive by a trail of scorching flames that immediately seared it way towards where he stood upon his intrusion.

He had not seen the dragon, but he realized it knew he was there, and somehow, rather peculiarly, Bilbo did not feel afraid. His heart sped up in his chest, surely, but the hobbit was no where near as nervous as he was supposed to be, and he did not know why. For Aulë's sake, he was in the same room as Smaug the Terrible! The dragon who razed Erebor to the ground and forced the dwarves to flee for their lives over a hundred years ago!

No, he still was not as terrified as he should be. Bilbo knitted his brows at his own indiffrence and gave his chest a gentle pat as if to check if his heart was still there. Then suddenly, a powerful voice thundered from the center of the room, shaking even the very air within it.

"WHO DARES ENTER MY DOMAIN!"

It was now that fear began to clench at his heart. Bilbo piped up to reply back weakly.

"It matters not who I am!" His voice was shrill, "I come here to negotiate with you!"

Negotiate, right. Dragons love negotiations, especially ones that end with more treasure pouring their way. He knew Smaug would not roast him alive with the opening of this offer. With that, Bilbo stepped out from behind the pillar, and turned to face the...-

There was no dragon.

Furrowing his brows, Bilbo adjusted the torch in his hand and started to pick his way towards the center of the hall. The gigantic room was bathed in the luscious glow of thousands and thousands of candles whose glimmers reflected off the piles of gold that floored the room.

Bilbo started his climb onto a pile of goal, his eyes still darting around the hall to check for any movements.

A large diamond chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and Bilbo realized that had this not been a situation where he could be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash at any given moment, he would have complimented the host for their good taste in decorations. Smaug's lair was truly a sight to behold.

Suddenly, Bilbo lost his footing, slipped, and was half buried in the pile of gold coins. Breath hitched in his throat, and in alarm, he tried to clamber back to his feet.

It was then that a low-pitched mocking laugher sounded right behind him...

Bilbo froze, his heart raced, for it did not sound like the booming voice of the dragon he heard a mere moment ago. The laugh sounded rather... Human.

Biting his lips, the hobbit swallowed slowly and craned his neck back to look at his host.

A surprise gasp escaped his lips.

The _man_ who towered over him was donned in a long, tri-layer garment made of black leather. Scarlet patterns ran along it, embroidered with intricate threads of gold. The leather clung to his broad shoulders like wings, and cascaded down his majestic form, splaying around his ankles like a waterfall on the mountain of gold he stood upon. His shoulder length hair was black as night, and his slanted fiery golden eyes were striking, like two suns in a roaring tempest.

His tall and imposing figure towered over the little hobbit who scrambled backward on the pile of golden coins that kept drawing him down. Bilbo's eyes were wide in fright as the magnificent stranger bent down to eye level with him.

"And what are you, mortal?"

His voice was deep, low, and velvety. Bilbo gasped, and the stranger licked his lips, eyeing Bilbo with a look close to amusement; the corner of his mouth drew up in a wicked smile.

"Ah, indeed. A halfling."

Bilbo's breath was hitched in his throat, and a question slipped out before he even caught himself.

"Wh...- What do _you_ know about haflings?"

The stranger's sharp eyes glared like embers.

"There are many things I know about you, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo's jaw fell down, almost comically.

"Wait! How did you know my na...-"

"Deduction." His resonating voice echoed within the chamber, silencing the bewildered hobbit.

"D...Deduction?"

The stranger whipped around, his hands behind his back, and started marching in circles without looking at him. It was then that Bilbo managed to clamber to position himself atop the pile of gold again.

"Small in form with short, curly hair, pointy ears, walks barefoot, fury feet. You, mortal, are a hobbit."

Then suddenly the stranger's presence was on him. Bilbo gasped in alarm and fell backward. The man towered over him with his hands planted on either sides of Bilbo's head, their faces inches apart. The little hobbit trembled as the intense golden eyes glared into his, and words were pouring out from the stranger's lips.

"Your skin is pale underneath your vest." His long finger traced its way down Bilbo's chest where the buttons had become undone, "You have travelled far, although you seldom do so - No. In fact, this is your first journey."

The stranger's eyes bore into his as Bilbo gaped, his mystically handsome face now only and inch away from the hobbit's.

"Loose fitting clothes fancied by a _thin hobbit_? I think not." His soft breath ghosted over Bilbo's lips."You have lost a considerable amount of weight during the past few months but had not the chance to acquire a new set of clothing. Why? You were in a hurry leaving - oh yes, the Shire, and in an even greater hurry traveling. Why?"

The golden-eyed man eyed him with a sidelong glance before pushing himself off of Bilbo, and resumed his pacing.

"Do not think I have not travelled far and wide, halfing. Your jacket is worn beyond repair now but it was well tailored. Only a few families in Westfarthing would be able to afford - oh please don't look surprised. You are neither a Stoor nor a Fallohide, hence Westfarthing. Your tender skin does not speak much of adventure; not a Brandybuck, and is that pride I sense? Yes. You are, or were, a well respected Baggins."

Bilbo pursed his lips to pluck up his courage.

"What about my name?" He asked indignantly. "How did you come by my name?"

"You have lost many pocket handkerchiefs along the way, but a well worn one hanging out of your pocket right now is treasured. Why? Your mother made it for you a long time ago and she even sew your name on it."

Bilbo heaved a sigh of defeat.

"But what made Bilbo Baggins of the Shire leave his warm hole in such a hurry and came all the way here...?" The stranger mused, audibly drawing in a breath, his fingers drumming against the back of his other hand. Then, his brows knitted, and he suddenly whirled back and dashed over to the hobbit. Two pale fingers tugged at the collars of his jacket, and the stranger bent down so close the tip of his nose almost came into contact with Bilbo's neck.

Bilbo felt heat flushing up to his face and neck as he drew his chin up and turned the other way, trying desperately to show that he was not afraid. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"You reek of that coward..." He heard the stranger whisper, his breath still hot on Bilbo's neck. "That castaway prince!"

His pale, yet strong hand grabbed Bilbo's chin roughly, forcing the hobbit to gaze into his amber eyes.

"Tell Thorin Oakenshield that Smaug the Magnificent sends his regards."

Then he leant down, and placed a searing kiss on the hobbit's slightly parted lips.

"Until then, Master Baggins!"

With a gush of wind, all the candles in the hall went out, and Bilbo closed his eyes as a strong gale rushed past him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was outside the secret door. The hobbit blinked, his rosy cheeks still burned, and he lifted a finger up to trace his lips as it felt like they were on fire.

The sun was on the edge of the horizon, radiating its pinkish orange glow against the purple sky. The thrushes were making their ways back to their nests, and the cold evening wind was biting into his skin. Bilbo shivered, not from the cold but from the fire that seemed to have ignited within his chest. He felt his face flushing as the images of that pair of amber eyes roaming his face flashed back into his mental vision; that deep, low resonating voice. Perhaps it also was the enticing peril, the dominating presence, and the temptation to succumb to all that was asked of him.

Had he fallen for the beast?


	2. To quench his thirst

**Author's note:** Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I really appreciate your taking the time to read this, and voilà! Here's the second chapter!

Again, this is a parody, I don't mean to offend anybody with it.

* * *

"Bilbo, is everything alright?" A deep voice sounded right behind him, and Bilbo jolted in alarm. Spinning around, he was met with a pair of eyes that were etched deep with worry - the royal blue eyes of none other but Thorin Oakenshield.

It was an expression the prince had been bestowing upon him quite often, as of late.

"All is well," Bilbo reported with a sigh, and turned back to gaze at the full moon hanging like a lantern above the calm night sky. He was sitting on a high veranda of Bard's house. A gentle breeze sidled by, trailing light kisses on his curly locks which Bilbo then, irritatingly, had to tuck behind his ears.

"No." Thorin's voice was firm as he slid down to sit beside Bilbo. The prince's warm hand came up to his chin, gently turning Bilbo's face to look at him.

"Not all is well." Thorin's gaze was somber, "You have been keeping silent to yourself since yesterday's evening. By Aulë! I know not what came over me, letting you walk into the lair of Smaug alone."

Bilbo shrugged, trying to ignore that hint of foreign emotion which stir within him at the mention of the beast's name.

"I'm the company's burglar, it was my duty." He stated, "After all, did you not let me come along for this purpose?"

The prince opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a moment decided against it. Thorin shook his head and smiled gently, before lifting his hand up to stroke one of Bilbo's untamed curls as the hobbit looked away.

"There are many things about me you do not know of, halfling." He whispered, before rising to his feet, and made his way back into the main hall where the others were gathered.

Bilbo sat alone for a moment, letting the gentle wind blow passed his small form. Smaug was right, he was much too thin to be called a respectable hobbit, but as Bilbo now learnt, being respectable did not mean much if you were constantly on the run for your life in the wild.

They had all entered Erebor that morning while the beast was out hunting. It was the first time Bilbo witnessed the true love dwarves had for gold, for the hall was filled with incoherent euphoric cries and the sound of bodies rolling on the piles of shiny treasure. Bilbo remembered staring incredulously at Dwalin who showered himself with golden coins and dug his face into the mountains of gold, while letting out a very un-warrior like mewl of satisfaction.

A sad melody swept passed his ears, and Bilbo's heart ached by how utterly sorrowful the tune sounded. He closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the beautiful thrumming of the instrument sink into his chest. Although there were no lyrics to accompany it, it sounded as if the song told of a long lost love, or an unrequited one, where the forlorn persona wept alone and lamented for his broken heart.

The music of a lone harp continued to play and, drawn to its bitter-sweet ambience, Bilbo rose, letting his feet carry him after the sound.

They brought him an entrance to a room. Candle light was spilling out from the inside, and Bilbo crept towards the opened door silently, lest the inhabitant of the room should become aware of his presence.

The heart rending music intensified, reaching its climax, and the hobbit felt the rim of his eyes beginning to sting. Bilbo shook his head to rid of the strange emotion, and chanced poking his head into the room. A small gasp escaped his lips when the sight within was revealed.

There sat the mighty King Under the Mountain, alone, amidst the candle light. His arms were wrapped around a beautiful golden harp Bilbo remembered he had once brought out to play at Bag End, and even more fondly the prowess of its master. Thorin's fingers rested on the delicate strings, his deep blue eyes staring into a faraway place Bilbo could not see, and the melancholic tune continued to flow out of the exquisite instrument.

Guilt surged through him, and Bilbo pulled back to rest his head against the wooden wall, lifting his chin up to again let his face bath in the glow of the moon. His hands clenched in tight fists beside him, and the hobbit heaved a sigh of anguish. If Thorin could not hope to reclaim his own unrequited love, how could he ever hope to reclaim his mountain?

Thorin was like water. He was strong, fierce, and determined like the cold currents in the vast sea, yet all the same, as gentle and as tender as a stream in summer time.

So was it Bilbo's fault that he was seduced by the fire, that his thirst could not be quenched by water?

For the flame that had ignited within him was searing hot and destructive as much as it burned with passion and ardent, and who was he to deny the pleasure that the entwining pain had to offer?

Turning away from the room, Bilbo slowly made his way back to the veranda where he left his satchel. He knew that the water had drowned his heart in its sorrowful euphony, and as of tonight, only by playing with fire would he be able to rekindle the flame that warmed him.

The poignant music still echoed in his ears long after Bilbo had crept away from Bard's house. Slowly, yet surely, Bilbo began to make his way back to the mountain. This time he would enter through the main entrance, the beast knew who to expect as well as he did.

Once again he stood in the great hall floored with gold coins and flooded with other precious trinkets. The diamond chandelier hung from the high ceiling decorated with paintings, and the excessive number of candles still illuminated the room.

Bilbo looked around the vast room he had not the chance of feasting his eyes on the first time he entered. Then, when he came in with the dwarves that morning, it was dark, and they only had a few torches, so at night when the host lit his fire, it was a truly mesmerizing sight.

"Iron or mithril?" The familiar deep, low voice sounded right behind him, causing the hobbit's heart to skip beat. Bilbo whirled around.

There was no one.

"I'm sorry?" He projected his voice towards no certain direction. Bilbo took a step back, his eyes darting around the room, searching for the owner of the voice.

"That mail shirt under your tunic. Is it iron or mithril?" The voice echoed from afar, and the hobbit turned towards the direction, taking another step back.

"Mithril..." His voice was shaky, "But I don't see how that...-"

"Hmmm, mithril, is it?" This time, the voice was from right above his head, and Bilbo gasped as he felt his back colliding with a strong, warm chest, "_He_ treasures you, does he not?" Smaug's teasing voice was low as he whispered.

Bilbo dared not move, but then the man stepped out to stand in front of him. The hobbit looked up.

The dragon was, in a word, truly magnificent.

His deep golden eyes glowed brilliantly on his fair face, contrasting starkly with the midnight black of his hair and the leather gown.

"H...How did you know about my mail shirt?" Dumbstruck, the hobbit finally managed to sputter out. Thorin had gifted it to him this morning when he found it in this very room. Had Smaug noticed this piece of possession missing?

"You have a limp when you walk." Smaug stated, gesturing Bilbo's leg with a skull-headed cane in his hand, "You are either wearing a heavy mail you are yet accustomed to - in which case it would have been iron - or a lighter mail which you are convincing yourself is too heavy, for you do not wish to wear it. You have got a psychosomatic limp. "

After a moment of silence.

"That is..." Bilbo stammered, "Brilliant."

Smaug sent him a sidelong glance, and it was in that moment when all the candles in the room dimmed down.

"You have come here," He began to pace, one hand resting in the other behind his back, "For one purpose, and one alone."

His low voice was sultry, and so absolutely commanding that Bilbo could not keep his lips from voicing a reply.

"I have come here," The hobbit whispered, taking a daring step closer to the dragon. "Hardly knowing the reason why."

He was right, Bilbo hardly knew why he had returned to the mountain, but it was for one purpose, so deeply true, yet so inarticulate...

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._

"Since that moment I first saw you here," Smaug suddenly whipped around and bent down to caress Bilbo's cheek with his long hand, his amber eyes burning with emotions, "I have needed you with me - to serve me, you hear? For my music, my music... What do you think about the violin?"

Bilbo leaned in to the touch with a sigh.

"I much prefer it to the harp." The hobbit smiled.

"I will give you the chance to turn back now," The dragon smirked, both hands now clasping Bilbo's face, his thumb brushing beneath the hobbit's eye, "If you do not like the sound of where this tune is going."

"Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided," The hobbit reached up to grab the other's hands that held his face and looked up to meet the dragon's eyes. "Decided."

Smaug only grinned, and stepped back, inviting the hobbit to follow with the touch of his hand. The candles dimmed even further, leaving the entire hall to bathed in the mysterious, warm glow.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation." He began to lead the hobbit around the piles of gold, deeper into the hall, "Darkness stirs, and wakes imaginations."

Mesmerized, Bilbo tripped on a vase, but the grip on his hand tightened, preventing the hobbit from crashing into the pile of gold.

"Silently, the senses," The dragon raised his bushy brows at him, "Abandon their defenses... Are you certain you do not wish to return to where all is bright, halfling? Stay here and you shall have to serve _me_, and all that is dark."

"Past the point of no return," Bilbo reached up to grip the man's broad shoulder, confidence burning bright in his eyes, "No going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun."

"Turn your face away," Smaug nodded his approval, his hand coming up to hold Bilbo's chin, "From the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night."

Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a purr as he felt the dragon drawing him in to lean on his broad chest. Smaug's curious hands were trailing his front, touching and caressing and beginning to tear away the obstacle which barred them, until his nails were scraping not his clothes but the mithril mail. The dragon leant down and trailed searing kisses along Bilbo's jaw, leaving the hobbit to shudder, his hands finally roaming to a forbidden place.

"Help me make my music of the night..."

The last candle in the hall went out, leaving the entire room in absolute darkness.


	3. Déjà vu

**Author's note:**

**Dear All,**

**I am incredibly sorry I'd abandoned this fic for such a long time. No excuse, the inspiration just didn't come. Well, anyhow, here's a new chapter. I really would like say a massive thank you to all who have stuck with me so far, and a special thank you to those who reviewed, it meant a lot!**

* * *

"Okay, you've got questions." His companion said, eyeing the smaller being.

"Yeah. Where are we going?" Bilbo asked, puzzled. They had entered another chamber, smaller, and not completely dark, but still far too dimly lit for him to discern anything.

"My chamber. Next?"

"Who are you?" The hobbit suddenly blurted out, "What do you do?"

He could hear a deep chuckle rumbling in his companion's chest, and Bilbo's face flushed as the side of his hip brushed against the leather cloak Smaug was wearing, reminding him that he had naught covering his own being but the mithril mail and a thin pair of scarlet briefs.

"What do you think?"

"I'd say you're a dragon..."

"But...?"

"But that's already glaringly obvious!"

Although it was too dark to see, Bilbo could sense his companion grinning, and again, he felt heat rising up to his face as memories of moments ago flooded his mind.

His tingling skin still remembered where the dragon's hands had travelled... Everywhere. He was ravished by heated touches in places he did not know was possible for such _intense_ pleasure to be elicited, much less to cause him to let out exquisite noises he had not know he was capable of producing.

But the dragon had stopped there. It was no more than a game of tease.

And now here they were. The hobbit stumbling through a vast dimly lit hall, guided by the epitome of elegance who steered him in the right directions with his hand placed on the small of his back.

And by the Valars, he would be lying if he said it didn't feel good...

"I am the Great Dragon, the only one in Middle Earth, ."

Bilbo could not help but laugh.

"'Great Dragon?', I do believe you invented the title."

Silence.

Bilbo looked up, and panic suddenly seized him as he saw the dragon's face have become stern as if it was carve out of stone. Had he offended him?

"Sher-...Smaug?"

"I am the last of my kind," Came a whisper, and Bilbo could sense it was touched with a hint of sorrow, "In Middle Earth..."

Silence spread its wings over them again for the hobbit was at loss of words. Bilbo looked up at the dragon's face; candle light washed over his high cheekbones, casting an eerie shadow over his face, and Bilbo could not deny that it did make him look all the more... Attractive.

Before he could help himself, Bilbo had stopped walking and turned towards the taller man, causing Smaug to stop as well. Reaching up, the hobbit traced his fingers gently over the side of the beast's face. Smaug let his eyes fall shut with a sigh, and leaned into the hobbit's gentle caress.

"You are extraordinary." Bilbo whispered, his eyes distant as he took in the dragon's refined features, "You are... quite extraordinary..."

The feeling of a pair of hot lips on his freezing fingers broke the spell that had fallen over Bilbo, and the hobbit shook his head a little to regain his focus on the man before him.

Smaug had caught his hand that was caressing his face and brought them to his lips, a mischievous glint played in his eyes as he looked down at the hobbit. His warm lips traced trails along his knuckles, making Bilbo shiver.

"Smaug...-"

"Shshh..." The dragon shushed him sweetly, his eyes were pool of darkened seduction, "Just wait a little more, we're already here."

Bilbo did not quite know what exactly it was that he was suppose to be anticipating, but as Smaug reached out to turn a door knob Bilbo did not previously notice was there, the hobbit immediately knew that the room lying next door was the dragon's very own chamber.

"It's... It's beautiful!" Bilbo Baggins stammered as the door swung open, and the tall man guided him into a vast room filled with the scent of rose petals. The granite floor was lined with a rich maroon carpet, candelabras stood tall in every corner, and a great big chandelier shimmered brilliantly from the high ceiling. Beside a large fireplace stood an intricately carved bed lined with scarlet satin, so rich, so alluring, and before Bilbo knew it, he was already gently placed onto the smooth and cool fabric.

He sat leaning against the many pillows, letting his eyes trail the graceful movements of the tall figure who moved to the other end of the room. The dragon was silent as he picked something up from the cushions of an armchair. He straightened up, and slid it into the crook of his neck.

Bilbo was about to open his mouth to ask what he was doing, but immediately the hobbit was stunned into silence as the room was at once enveloped by the sweet, silvery notes dancing out of the elegant instrument the one and only consulting dragon was holding.

The melodies like falling silver lulled Bilbo into a half-asleep state. The sweet notes glided like a warm stream over his half-lidded eyes. Bilbo must have fallen asleep at some point during the song, because before he knew it, something cold and smooth was being pressed against his lips.

He lifted up his half lidded eyes, and there was Smaug. The fiddle-like instrument in his hand was gone and the music had stopped. His otherworldly face was close to Bilbo's own, very close. The dragon's rich golden eyes bore into his, so deep, so dark, so... Alluring.

Oh all the things so unfathomable the hobbit could see in them... But does he, _dare_ he sense - _possessiveness_?

Bilbo moved his lips to speak, but the something cold and smooth was still being pressed against them. In this half dream state, the small being could only lift up his lashes to send the dragon a questioning glance.

"Drink," Came the deep, sultry voice, "It'll warm you up."

"What's this?" Bilbo finally muttered.

"Just wine. I went to get you some while you drifted off."

"I've never heard of dragons drinking wine."

"You just did. You don't want it?"

"You don't need to keep pleasing me."

He could see a cunning smile catching the corner of the dragon's lips, and Bilbo's heart began to race even harder. The hobbit felt his breath hitching. Those dwarves never said anything about how... Sensual a dragon could be. Furnace with wings? More like a walking epitome of lust.

...If the Respectable Mr. Baggins of Bag End was here to listen to his more than improper thoughts, he would have long been slapped and disowned by himself.

"But pleasing you is all that is on my mind." Smaug droned with a lazy smile, his breath hot against Bilbo's ear. "Drink."

Bilbo pouted, but took the goblet anyway.

"Why? Don't you have anything else to think about?"

"What is it I ought to be thinking about?"

"I don't know..." Bilbo let a small smile play on his lips and tilted the goblet, letting the deeply sweet merlot warm its way down his throat. He almost let out a mewl of satisfaction but stopped himself. The hobbit gasped without thinking. "Breathing fire, perhaps?"

"Ah, breathing fire." Smaug groaned and rolled his eyes, "When it concerns a dragon, that's all they ever think about, isn't it? Breathing. Breathing's boring. Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains. It must be so _boring_."

This somehow felt a little like a déjà vu. Bilbo itched to open his mouth and retaliate, but the goblet was in his way, so the hobbit decided to finish his wine and set down the goblet with a huff.

There was a moment of silence.

"So..." Bilbo began again, feeling his voice cracking a little and his vision rather hazy. His head was swimming. "How did you find out about our travelling company?"

The dragon grinned, as if he had been asked the best question in the world. All signs of boredom from a moment ago vanished without a trace as he settled down beside Bilbo and began to trace his hand along the line Bilbo's neck.

And the hobbit could not bring himself to swat it away.

"Elementary, my dear Mr. Baggins," He whispered hotly into Bilbo's ear, "_Quite_ elementary..."

Bilbo was not entirely sure when the dragon had removed his long dark cloak, but he was now nestled right against Bilbo on the featherbed; his long legs were stretched on the red satin, and Bilbo could see his well-toned chest rising up and down from underneath the V-necked top.

Smaug's clothing were strange, seeming out of the era almost, but Bilbo could not bring himself to care now that he was feeling so comfortable and warm.

"Hmm..." Smaug hummed as he swung an arm over Bilbo's shoulder and buried his nose into the hobbit's copper curls. He inhaled deeply, "Though I don't suppose you are entirely in the mood of hearing how I figured out your little secret now, am I right?"

Bilbo's fingers that had been playing with the buttons in front of Smaug's tunic stopped immediately, and the hobbit looked up sheepishly with an apologetic grin.

"Sorry," He mumbled with a smile, "Got carried away."

Smaug nibbled at the tip of his pointy ear, and Bilbo let out a high-pitch yelp. He reddened immediately as he felt his stomach doing a flip. Hobbits' ears were very, well... _Sensitive_.

The dragon chuckled knowingly.

"Would you like me to take this off?"

The offer caught Bilbo off guard. The hobbit looked right at the dragon with his round, dark eyes and blinked in innocent confusion. Although, since his hand was still laid on the dragon's strong chest, it helped only a little with the situation.

Smaug smirked, and began to trail his hand down his front, long fingers gracefully unbuttoning the strange shirt, revealing more and more of his glowing, taut chest.

When the shirt was gone altogether, Bilbo found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the _glorious_ masculinity before him that seemed to glow in the candle light. The musky scent emanating from the dragon that was so inherently Sher-_Smaug_ was intoxicating him, and before Bilbo knew it, he had dipped his head down to place a kiss right in the middle of the dragon's chest.

Then, it all happened in a blink of an eye. The tall man jerked and gasped hard as Bilbo's soft lips pressed down onto his skin, and as if a bolt had been unscrewed in his brilliant brain, he let out a strangled growled and immediately flipped Bilbo onto his back, clamping his lips right down onto the hobbit's.

Bilbo did not realise when exactly it was that his mithril shirt was thrown off and casted aside. He mewled and writhed in frenzy as the dragon devoured the cavern of his mouth, sucking and licking and kissing mercilessly. Bilbo's fingers were fisted in his captor's curly locks, and he was arching his back into the dragon's body for more contact. The musky scent drowned him, and Bilbo's vision was swirling in the mass of dark hair and glowing, moon-lit skin. Smaug tasted of red wine with a hint of tobacco, and some rich spice Bilbo could not find a name for. And he was so addictive, so delicious, and so impossibly _everything_ wonderful that Bilbo finally understood how something as important as breathing could be _boring_.

Finally, however, they broke for air. Bilbo's face was flushed, and his lips were completely bruised and bleeding, but the hobbit could not care less. With his lips parting slightly to let steamy breaths out, his curious eyes trailed along Smaug's chest that was heaving heavily above him. Bilbo's hazy eyes glazed over the detective's perfectly shaped collarbones and the rows of muscles that rippled beneath his abdomen, and he drew his tongue to lick his chapped lips.

The little acts, unintentional as they were, were more than enough to set fire to the dragon.

Smaug let out an uncontrollable groan and dipped his head down again to lick across Bilbo's bleeding lips. His soft, wet tongue sent shivers down Bilbo's spine, and the little creature beneath the great beast let out a sharp moaned.

He helplessly _moaned_.

It was this time that the master of the house completely lost control. Smaug barred his teeth and set to make the hobbit his once and for all.

"You will be mine, and mine alone..."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**A couple of things happened between the last chapter and this one should you be interested.**

**1.) I took a train to London to the World Premiere of _Star Trek: Into Darkness_ and met Benedict Cumberbatch. If you think that man is smooth when he moves on screen, you obviously needs to see him live. He was so incredibly handsome, and _just_ the way he _moves_ - gosh! I'd compare it to _gliding in chocolate_, don't care if it's cheesy!**

**2.) I also flew from England to New Zealand on a _14-days Hobbit/Lord of the Rings Tour_ (Red Carpet Tours). Went to all the filming sites (well, those I was sure WB wasn't going to cut my head off if I set foot there), met and chatted with Trevor Bau (Martin Freeman's stunt), Mark Hadlow (Dori), Jed Brophy (Nori), and Sir Richard Taylor of Weta Workshop! Oh and I also got The One Ring's inscription tattooed onto my back, hahahaha!**


	4. The two of us -VS- The rest of the world

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you so much for the reviews! **

**On a side note, it occurred to me while reading through the reviews that Smaug may appear rather Sherlocky. So to clarify: yes, this is intentional, and yes, if you read on, you'll find out why...**

**Here comes the smut~**

* * *

Smaug slid his hand under Bilbo's mithril mail and yanked it off his body with a satisfied groan. The mail was casted against a wall and the rings of mithril echoed their cries when it landed, but Bilbo could not care less. Still tightly lip-locked with the dragon, both of the hobbit's hands were tangled in his hair, tousling the dark curls, feeling every bit of that well-shaped skull, oh what a beautiful skull...

His partner grunted into their kiss, and he sucked on Bilbo's lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and the hobbit let him. The feeling of the dragon's wet, warm tongue lapping blood off his lip was more than ecstatic, it was erotic, and the hobbit felt the exciting pleasure running up his spine. He writhed under the other's strong body and buckled up his hips, desperate for more contact. A low rumble of laughter filled his ears.

"Feisty, aren't we?" Smaug whispered into his ear, and Bilbo's whimpers quickly turned to cries as the dragon's glorious lips enclosed around the tip of his sensitive ear. The practiced tongued dipped into the clefts of the shell, and Bilbo shuddered. Smaug sucked hard and began to rake his teeth along the outline of his ears, extracting helpless cries from the little hobbit who clawed his fingers down the beast's back.

Smaug's hands that were previously clasped around his jaws began to roam his body. The long, clever fingers slithered down his neck, traced his bare chest, and made their way down his slim waist, as if determined to study each and every single crevices on his body. Bilbo let out a small purr of satisfaction.

"Hmm... You like that, don't you?"

The dragon's mouth left his ear and Bilbo gasped at the loss. Suddenly, however, the hobbit was forced to let out a high pitched yelp as the warm mouth enclosed right on one of his nipples. Bilbo's back arched up immediately on reflex, and he cried out in desperation. Smaug's other hand was now roaming his abdomen, and slowly making its way down to the rim of his scarlet briefs...

It must have been the wine... Because after that, Bilbo's mind became somewhat clouded. He briefly remembered his scarlet briefs being taken away at some point, and that he was left lying splayed, naked, an opened offer to the dragon.

He also remembered Smaug finally removing all of his garments, and how glorious the beast had looked, bathed in the glow of candle light. He remembered how the dragon had enclosed his long, deft fingers around Bilbo's cock, how he curled his agile digits deep into Bilbo's secret entrance, and how it left the hobbit to sputter and gasped and choked out a name he was not quite sure belonged to the dragon...

John woke up in his bed with a strangled moan of Sherlock's name. His breathing came in short rasps, and he was panting hard. With one hand still pumping wildly at his cock, the other was inching two fingers deeper and deeper into his hole. John moaned and thrashed wildly against his bed, his chest heaving rapidly.

In the darkness of 221b Baker Street, John's pupils dilated as he gripped his hand tight around the hard rod of flesh between his legs and pulled his hand up and down it with abandon. His cock was fully erected, standing up in its unashamed glory against his stomach and shooting out strings of his guilty pleasure. John shook in uncontrollable excitement as he stared at the throbbing member, his eyes fixating on the slit at the tip that was slick with pre-come. The ex-army doctor licked his lips. The hard length of flesh and muscle kept appearing and disappearing from view as he worked his hand up and down it. Hot, white cum was spurting out of the tip and onto his cover as John mewled and knocked his head against the headboard.

"Sherlock... Sherlock!' He gasped and rutted against the duvet on his bed, the coarse material rubbing against his tender, sensitive cock sent sparks of electricity right into his core, and John groaned and sputtered in desperation, pumping his cock into his war-calloused hand even faster.

Then John sat up. Having worked as an army doctor, he was a lot more flexible than an average man his age. John grabbed at the length between his legs, bent down, and directed the glistening tip into his mouth. With a gasp of surprise, followed shortly by a desperate moan against the nub of flesh, John began to suckle at it slowly. Both his legs were spread wide on either side of him, and his balls rubbed deliciously against the coarse sheet, sending tears of pleasure to well up in the doctor's eyes.

His other hand reached behind him, and John leaned forward even more, lifting his backside up from where he sat. Four of his fingers were now working in and out of the hot hole, and John gave out a loud scream and he jerked. His index finger had finally brushed against his prostrate.

"Sherlock..." Joh gasped through the cock in his mouth, he ran his tongue along the flared edge of the crown and sucked _hard_. "SHERLOCK!"

In reckless abandon, Dr. Watson took his own length in between his teeth and nibbled teasingly at it. The bed was now shaking violently as John thrashed ferociously on it, a vase was knocked down from the side table and smashed on the floor, but John could not care less. He sucked and bit and blow on the engorged head of his member, and slipped his entire first into his ass, clawing desperately at the prostrate and screaming even louder.

"SHERLOCK!"

The thought of his flatmate, his detective, his _so-very-desirable-yet-so-oblivious-to-it_ Sherlock made John's length jerk hard. The crown at the thick head flared open the widest John had ever felt. With a push, John groaned, raked his teeth down his cock's underside and dipped the tip of his tongue right into the flared opening; he sucked, hard.

It was maddening.

The pleasure which _exploded_ within him was enough to make a lesser man come right there and then on the spot, but John Watson was no lesser man. Instead, he slammed his fist even harder into his ass with a scream, raked his nails against the taut walls, and rubbed - rubbed _intently_ at that one sensitive spot which sent him over oblivion every time he so much as brushed against it.

John threw his head back against the headboard and howled in the intense carnal pleasure. The coarse fabric of his duvet was squeezed between his legs and rubbing against his balls that were slick with white, sticky cum. Amidst the burning ecstasy, John's squeezed shut eyes and ringing ears prevented him from noticing that a tall, dark form in his long, black coat had entered the door. The figured stared in silence, but the pair of blue-green eyes that stared unblinking at John were wide in utter surprise...-

Surprise...Which slowly melted into a pool of darkened pleasure...

"Bilbo..."

The hobbit opened his eyes again at the deep purr of the dragon. Despite being inexplicably aroused, he blinked.

Did he just blank out?

To Bilbo, the vision moments ago was real. Real enough to get him thinking of how familiar the place...-

"Ah!"

Bilbo cried as Smaug rammed his hot length deep into his ass. He could feel the thick crown brushing hard against his prostrate, and the hobbit's eyes rolled back into his head. Both his legs were now on either sides of Smaug's shoulders, allowing the dragon to have the perfect view of his groin. The dragon chuckled, and leant down to kiss him again right between his balls and his abused holes. He licked and sucked and bit mercilessly as Bilbo let out wild screams, slamming his groin up in reckless abandon into the dragon's experience mouth.

"I-" he panted, "I can't-"

"Good." Smaug droned, his voice thick with lust, "Come for me, my little halfling..."

On that note, Smaug began slamming his cock repeatedly up into Bilbo's ass at a mind-blowing pace. His hand gripped tightly around the hobbit's weeping cock and he pumped mercilessly, his thumb pushed against the flared opening atop Bilbo's red, hypersensitive crown and kneaded, and he bent down to suck _hard_ at Bilbo's balls.

Bilbo threw his head back against the feather pillows as Smaug finally hit his prostrate square on the spot for the sixth time. His throat let out the most desperate, the most euphoric cry as he came hard in long white strings of cum which couldn't burst through the tip of his cock fast enough. The hobbit stared with bewildered eyes at his own member as it contracted and convulsed and shot out more white liquid than he'd ever seen in the many times he had pleasured himself in the comfort of Bag End. His cock trembled still standing up, and the cover beneath it was pooled with his hot cum. Smaug jerked and rutted and rammed into him a few more times, before the great beast finally let out animalistic growl. His shaft twitched in Bilbo's burning hole, and he launched his scorching cum right into Bilbo's filled up ass, causing the liquid be squeezed out through where their skins met with obscene squirting sounds.

Bilbo panted, breathing hard, his chest still heaving. His skin was covered in cool sweat and his vision blurred. Smaug slid out of him with relative ease and rolled to his side, Bilbo's brain was still too numbed for him to register much.

They both lay unspeaking for a moment, letting their heavy breaths and decreasing heart rates do the talking. Finally, however, Bilbo rolled to his side to face the world's only consulting dragon, it was all still a blur, but he knew he had to speak.

"That was fucking amazing." The hobbit breathed. Somewhere deep in his mind, he briefly wondered where the jargon had come from. However, all thoughts dissipated once Smaug swung an arm over his hip and drew him close.

"_...Just the two of us against the rest of the world._" The dragon whispered into his hair.

Bilbo did not know what the beast meant, but he was contented with snuggling close and burying his face into the dark haired man's chest, breathing in his familiar scent. So the hobbit fell asleep, and deep in slumber, he finally realized what, or rather _who_ the dragon smelled like...


End file.
